Pamela Ribonhttp://pamie.com
I write a lot. Sometimes it gets weird.Wed, 07 Dec 2016 17:36:54 +0000en-UShourly1https://wordpress.org/?v=4.6.1Praise for SLAM!http://pamie.com/2016/11/praise-for-slam/
http://pamie.com/2016/11/praise-for-slam/#commentsFri, 18 Nov 2016 07:46:29 +0000http://pamie.com/?p=17848[Read more...]]]>“SLAM #1 is one of the strongest first issues I have read in awhile. A bright, genuine approach to the human spirit… Has the potential to be one of the best new series of the year.” — Geek

“Oh my goodness, I love this book and Veronica Fish’s work so much that it hurts.” — Court of Nerds

“Charisma that cannot be ignored. This is another awesome comic about kick-ass women created by some kick-ass women.” — All-Comic

“[A] breath of fresh air…absolutely joyful and should absolutely set precedent for how women’s sports comics handle competition and friendships.” – Graphic Policy

“[T]houghtful and emotional…a visually beautiful book with a strong premise and a great deal of promise.” – Newsarama, Best Shot pick of the week

“Visual storytelling, ladies and gentlemen. This is how its done.” — Primary Ignition

“One of the most original comic books that I have read all year and after one issue I am already hooked. It is fresh, fun, emotional and exciting. I found myself with a smile from start to finish.” – Big Glasgow Comic

“That’s actually one of writer Pamela Ribon’s strongest points with SLAM!– the story flows perfectly from start to finish, incorporating flashbacks and cutaways with unusual but pleasing symmetry- like angles of incidence on a pool table. Ribon, who has worked on several titles for Oni Press as well as various animated features including the upcoming Moana, is very pro-girl-power without requiring girl-power to look like a specific set of behaviors for any particular person.” — NerdSpan

“Pamela Ribon crafts an excellent opening chapter that tackles issues of fear and self-doubt and the importance of perseverance and camaraderie among women.[A]bove all else a delightful read from start to finish.” — Talking Comics

“It’s not often that sports comics come around and it’s even less often that a sports comic would focus on love and feminism. What makes “SLAM!” stand out is a sense of innocence. That sense of unrelenting innocence feels almost like a political statement in the current climate of not only comics, but the world; this is a comic about women and it is a comic about friendship and love and connection through strife and striking back at the world.” — Multiversity Comics

“…a fun story that I think will surprise a lot of people.” — Comicosity, Hot Five pick

“…utterly unique…Slam! offers one of the most unique perspectives on a gendered gaze in comics because of the subject matter and the fact that it’s a female driven production from top to bottom, with letterer Jim Campbell the only man involved in any stage of production. As a result, writer Pamela Ribon can leave the subtleties of interactions and evaluations open ended in interpretation knowing that the spirit will remain intact from editorial guidance through to final artwork.” — Comicosity

]]>http://pamie.com/2016/11/praise-for-slam/feed/1When It’s Not a Game For Youhttp://pamie.com/2016/07/when-its-not-a-game-for-you/
http://pamie.com/2016/07/when-its-not-a-game-for-you/#commentsMon, 11 Jul 2016 00:18:54 +0000http://pamie.com/?p=17810[Read more...]]]>Pokémon GO has exploded all over my life. My friends are playing it at work, others are boasting finds in my Facebook feed– this morning I watched a young family catch something outside my gate on their way to the farmer’s market. But I can’t stop thinking about this essay I read: Pokémon GO is a Death Sentence if you are a Black Man..

I have never been as aware of my white-based public safety as the time we were playing an Amazing Race-style game that required us to stop strangers in downtown Los Angeles and ask them if they had something for us. At one point we were even running toward Union Station, one of us yelling, “We have to do it now, we’re running out of time!”

My brain kept whispering, “Nobody is even batting an eye, while you’re running past people who would be detained, if not flat-out shot for doing what you’re doing.”

My friend was sure she’d found one of the “informants” who had our next clue. She called me over and told me she’d asked him if he had something, and he said that depended on if she could tell him what train you take to Hollywood. “This is how we get our next clue! Tell him, tell him!” The only problem was he was now being questioned by two bike cops who assumed he was harassing us.

This is where I mention he was black.

“I’m just going to give him directions,” I said.

“Ma’am, you don’t have to do that,” the officers said as they talked in code over the receivers near their shoulders.

“I want to,” I said. I was pretty sure he was the informant, but my friend was getting nervous, and it was getting tense around us. What am I supposed to say to the officers— “We’re okay here?” I didn’t summon them, they were already bothering him when I walked up, and I was frustrated that they thought they were interrupting either a drug deal or a panhandler — both of which were entirely race-based assumptions.

As officers again told us we should just walk away, I instead told the informant how to get to Hollywood. He opened up a folder from his messenger bag, and handed me my next clue.

He then turned to the bike cops. “It’s a GAME,” he said. After the officers left, I was feeling so shitty.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “All of that sucked.”

“You guys are the only ones with the clue, by the way,” he said. “None of these other people have even once come up to me.”

I would never play Pokémon GO — especially at night — because it sounds like the perfect way to get hit by a car, followed, or mugged. The things I have to think about when I walk alone out there are for who/what I am and what has happened to me. But it’s an entirely different thing to realize you can’t play a kid game because it makes you behave in a way that gets racists and profilers feeling antsy. Or maybe it isn’t different at all. Whatever it is, it’s definitely not a game.

]]>http://pamie.com/2016/07/when-its-not-a-game-for-you/feed/9How to Make Listening to Adele Even Sadderhttp://pamie.com/2015/11/how-to-make-listening-to-adele-even-sadder/
http://pamie.com/2015/11/how-to-make-listening-to-adele-even-sadder/#commentsSat, 21 Nov 2015 15:42:23 +0000http://pamie.com/?p=17799[Read more...]]]>I’m in the car, driving my almost three-year-old to her preschool. Music’s playing.

Her: What is this?
Me: This is the Breeders.
Her: It’s fast. Fast and loud.
Me: That’s right. Fast and loud music helps us get all the wiggles out. You can shake your head and shake your arms and yell really loud and dance.
Her: I like super fast fast loud.
Me: Then you’ll love this.

I turn it to “Cannonball,” so sure I’m going to blow her tiny mind. I watch her face in the rearview mirror. As those opening alarm calls sound — AH-WOOOOooooo! AH-WOOOOooooo! — her face crinkles with slight confusion. She looks unsure. What is about to happen?

Me: Oh, man. This is the best song.
Her: No, Mom. “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes” is the best song.
Me: Okay, first of all, you’re wrong.
Her: No! “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes” is the best song. It’s my favorite.
Me: Off the top of my head I can think of three other songs you claim to be your favorite that are better than “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes.” Six songs. All songs.
Her: I don’t like this.
Me: Because you’re supposed to play it louder. Here.
Her [grabbing her chest]: Mom, this song makes my heart hurt.
Me: Okay, I’ll play something different.

We whiplash over to Adele’s “Hello.”

Her: We’re in California, too. That’s where we live.
Me: Yes.
Her: Why’s he sad?
Me: She. She’s sad.
Her: Why’s she so sad, Mom?
Me: Well…she misses someone. This is called a love song. We love people so much we have to sing about them, and sometimes we love someone so much it can make us sad.
Her: She’s yelling.
Me: She is. Sometimes sad songs can be loud loud, too.
Her: Why’s she yelling?
Me: She’s yelling because she’s sad about someone.
Her: We need to make her laugh.
Me: Yeah, I don’t think we can do that right now.
Her: What is he yelling about?
Me: She. She’s yelling because she misses someone far away she loves very much.
Her: So she has to be loud?
Me: Yes, because she wants that person she loves to hear her.
Her: Because she’s far.
Me: She is. Very far.
Her: Mom, you’re sad?
Me: This song is sad. It does make me sad.
Her: Are you going to be yelling?
Me: If I sing along.
Her: Let’s do it. Loud loud.
[we sing the chorus]
Her: Why’s he so sad?
Me: She’s sad. The person singing is a woman.
Her: Why’s she yelling?
Me: Because she misses someone she loves–
Her: And she has to yell?
Me: Yes, because the person she misses isn’t listening to her. She’s trying to say she’s sorry.
Her: From the other side?
Me: … yes. You’re learning the lyrics very quickly.
Her: Why’s she sorry?
Me: Well… sometimes uh, in life you make choices, and sometimes you maybe have regrets, like sometimes there’s people you have to leave behind when you… oh, uh… when you love someone, sometimes you can love them so much and still…and sometimes you have to just… uh…
Her: She’s yelling so loud.
Me [at this point just trying not to cry]: She sure is, sweet girl.
Her: I’m sad.
Me: Me too.
Her: So sad. This is so sad, Mom.

The song ends as I park the car. I turn to look at my kid. Her eyes are downcast, her mouth a small pout. Her hands are folded in her lap. Quietly, so very quietly, she says just one word.

“Again.”

]]>http://pamie.com/2015/11/how-to-make-listening-to-adele-even-sadder/feed/13Recent podcast appearanceshttp://pamie.com/2015/09/recent-podcast-appearances/
http://pamie.com/2015/09/recent-podcast-appearances/#respondThu, 03 Sep 2015 16:29:17 +0000http://pamie.com/?p=17795[Read more...]]]>I link to things on Twitter and Facebook, but never come here to post them, so if you’re looking for places to hear me talk about work/process/being awkward in public, here you go. This is also a list of some fantastic podcasts/people.

GILMORE GUYS: These guys are so funny. They invited me to gab about episode 502, “A Messenger, Nothing More.” TWoP fans will enjoy this trip down memory lane. Newer readers might be shocked to see just how easily I can slip back into a snarky asshole.

SHE DOES | Conversations with Creative Minds: Elaine and Sarah are smart, funny and sweet. They also interview some of the most fascinating women in media. I was flattered to be invited to share my own story. My episode: Finding Your Own Fun.

THIS AMERICAN WIFE: Eric Martin is so calm and cool that I end up dorking out like you wouldn’t believe. And yet, he had me on his show TWICE. Episode 73: Only the Young and Episode 56: Side Gigs. Eric folded this podcast shortly after our last interview. He said it wasn’t not not entirely my fault.

BOOK CIRCLE ONLINE: This was a fun one. We discuss Notes to Boys, writing online and Anne Heche.

THE SEND-UP: Robyn and I talk about writing comedy for TV as a lady person, Sassy Magazine, asking for Tom Selleck and getting Harry Hamlin, and being in a twenty person improv troupe. The episode is here.

]]>http://pamie.com/2015/09/recent-podcast-appearances/feed/0In Celebration of Roxane Gay’s BAD FEMINISThttp://pamie.com/2014/12/in-celebration-of-roxane-gays-bad-feminist/
http://pamie.com/2014/12/in-celebration-of-roxane-gays-bad-feminist/#commentsWed, 03 Dec 2014 19:15:28 +0000http://pamie.com/?p=17696[Read more...]]]>I wrote this piece for Roxane’s LA book party at the Last Bookstore on August 18th. It was an incredible night — people were packed deep into the store, on every floor, sitting in corners, hidden between stacks of shelves — so many men and women who stayed the entire time, despite the intense heat from all those bodies waiting to hear Roxane speak. It was a blast. Thank you again to Roxane for inviting me. Roxane’s books are making all kinds of year-end lists, and it reminded me that I meant to post this here.

———

I am now the age I imagined I’d be when I reached my full feminist self. And I have to admit, when I first saw the title of Roxane’s book I winced. “Bad Feminist.” I don’t like that. We shouldn’t be proud of that. We shouldn’t want that. When I was invited to speak here, I thought, “Well, but I’m not a bad feminist.” I went to get my feminist scorecard so I could show everybody, but when I found it in the closet under my “Free Winona” t-shirt, it turns out I hadn’t looked at it in a while. Time for a little mid-term evaluation. Do me a favor and mark down whatever points you think I’ve earned or lost. I like being graded. And there is no curve.

I grew up a Sassy-era Feminist. The rules were simple: PROTEST. Be loud. Be heard. Wear your mantra on your shirt, preferably in hypercolor. Be different. Be funny. Be smart. Be well-informed, but it’s probably best to err on being one-sided in your information, so as not to confuse your message. Don’t get involved where it’s messy. Try to find something that can only be right or wrong. Maybe racism. You always feel good when you say you’re against racism.

My feminist heroes during the Sassy years include Janeane Garofalo. Kim Gordon. Rosanne. Jaded, weathered ladies. Weary ladies. Cynical. Sassy feminists looked up to the tired ones, who knew how hard it was to fight for equality. I have a healthy amount of that cynicism, although my generation called it different things. Snark. Spunk. Sass.

I don’t go to school anymore, so I can’t win Student of the Month. The best I can hope for is to one day be called a Role Model. That’s what my teen self would have wanted me to become. A role model for future feminists. But young feminists today are much less cynical. Instead of sassy, they are sincere. There are many of you here tonight. I see you. Look at you. It can’t just be youth. You truly seem so clean, so pure, so creamy. Look at their eyes, everybody. They fucking sparkle.

I wrote exactly one essay for Hello Giggles, right when the site first went up. I wrote about how much I hate nail art. That there’s really got to be something better to do with your hands then act like you’re still sitting in the back of eighth-grade history class with a bottle of Wite-out. If you have time to reprint the constitution on your ten digits, that tells me you aren’t doing enough with your Bill of Rights. I went on to talk about how grey nail polish is a weird fad, and when I tried it, it made me look like I had corpse fingers. I looked like Laura Palmer in the dirt, but people kept assuring me that it looked great, because it was so on-trend. Anyway, I tell you all this to say that the response from the young feminists was surprising. Instead of challenging me that they should get to do whatever the fuck they want to do with their hands and I can just go be old in a corner somewhere with my fax machine, almost every comment was: “Maybe you shouldn’t wear grey nail polish, then, if it makes you so unhappy.”

I don’t know how to talk to someone this sincere. It’s a problem of mine, not theirs. I don’t know how to be that sincere.

I also don’t know how to talk to the girl who claims she doesn’t need feminism. I don’t know how to tell her that the very sentence she just said – or flirted behind a handwritten posterboard in a half-naked selfie — her rejection of being a feminist is itself a feminist act. She’s making a choice about her participation in her own rights.

I want to say it’s a stupid choice, that it’s definitely a weaker choice, but she’s making a choice as a female about her own life. That’s what we’re fighting for, right? And lucky for her, we’ve come so far that someone can actually opt out of feminism. Like not getting a vaccination, knowing that the rest of us will get our shots, take the pain, do the work, fight the fight so that she’s got herd immunity when it comes to her safety, equality and freedom. It’s ballsy, isn’t it?

So now I’m confessing to having a difficult time being a role model for at least two different types of feminists. My scorecard in your hands must be…low.

Okay, let’s look at my job. As an author, screenwriter, tv writer – I write a lot, in an industry that is close to eighty percent male. I have a job where mostly I’m told “no,” to my face, many, many times a day. And I’m not an actor or a model, so people are not rejecting something as superficial as my looks. I’m not a customer service rep, people aren’t criticizing my personality or my ability to satisfy a client. When I’m told “no,” these people are rejecting my brain. My thoughts. My voice. My point of view. And I’m not saying that’s not my fault. I have definitely walked away from a pitch or a meeting thinking, “I definitely was just too much me in there.” How do I tell someone to strive to be who I am, when who I am is someone who’s constantly told no?

I do get big feminist checkmarks in the baby department. I have a baby. Check.

…Although not having a baby is incredibly feminist, too.

Anyway, it’s a girl. Super check.

…Although raising a son means you get to raise someone who won’t rape anybody. That’s really important. You get double points for that, at least.

I had my baby through my ladyparts, which if you haven’t had to deal with women who have opinions about how you should have your baby, you may not know that that’s the only way you’re considered to actually have had a baby and not a procedure or an agreement.

I had that baby with only a small break for an epidural in order to keep from tearing very feminist parts of me, but for the actual pushing, there was no epidural. I need that pain to have been a female-female-lady-woman-feminist act, so please, don’t ruin it for me. It’s all I have as a reason to have gone through it.

People who have not had babies you need to know, as much as you think it probably hurts, nobody has ever accurately explained how much it hurts. The earth’s core turns on this magnetic pull and all it wants, the only thing it’s trained on is your uterus. At one point the baby’s elbow was stuck in my pelvis, right above my thigh, and if someone had let me have a knife I would have performed a Z-section to fling that child from inside of me. It hurts.

I earned my pain badge from the Feminist Girl Scouts. I also earned my breastfeeding badge, my back-to-work-in-four-months badge, my finding-a-way-to-not-need-daycare-because-of-extended-family-and-fortunate-husband-work-situation badge and even an awesome lesbian nanny-friend badge (which is a really hard badge to get, that last one), but I don’t think any of that makes me a role model. It just makes me a working mom.

The baby has done things to me, physical things – she’s so strong, you guys, and she can kick, and bite nipples and slam her head into this tender part of my skull – I’ve had black eyes and bruised lips and the tearing I mentioned earlier because an epidural is no match for a fully-formed human sliding out of a tampon-sized hole. This baby has done things to me that if she were any other human on the planet, I could have her arrested. If she were my husband, you would beg me to leave her. If she were my dog, people would insist I put her down.

I haven’t slept in three years. I used to be a little pretty. Now most of my hair is fake. That does not feel feminist, but it is. I chose this hair. I bought this hair. With my money that I bought from my job like Beyonce would want me to. So, no, I take it back. THIS IS MY HAIR.

I have a hard time telling women that they should have a baby because I know what we wish weren’t true – that having a baby takes away some of your most favorite things about your life. Your body changes, your schedule changes, your marriage changes, some friendships shatter and you never think of a bathing suit the same way again. Other things flood in, fill the cracks, and in some places – yes- they get stronger, but you are always, forever, different. I want to tell all the women without children to protect their child-free lives if they love them. Not to worry that they are missing out if they are truly happy with the way things are. Because you will miss it, you will miss who you were, even if you love who you become.

I didn’t think I’d be this kind of feminist. I want to be a more stoic woman. A Ma Joad. A Kristina Braverman. She’s on Parenthood. She just takes it, packs the burdens on, keeping her eyes constantly shimmery but never going to the full-on breakdown. I’m not that woman. I can’t even get through an episode of Parenthood without openly sobbing. Sometimes on the couch. Sometimes on the treadmill. At the gym.

So, I’m an emotional woman in an abusive relationship with my baby, working in an industry that mostly rejects or ignores me, often simply because I’m female. Is this the future my Sassy teen self would have wanted? Look at your scorecards. Did I even get a C plus? I was so mad about someone claiming to be a Bad Feminist, I didn’t realize just how messy my own feminism had gotten. I’m extremely flattered that Roxane mentioned one of my novels in her kickass book. But right now, in this room, telling all of you what’s wrong with me, this is the most feminist moment I’ve ever had in my life. And I’m really proud of it. This is me at my most sincere.

]]>http://pamie.com/2014/12/in-celebration-of-roxane-gays-bad-feminist/feed/10I Can Be… Exhaustedhttp://pamie.com/2014/11/i-can-be-exhausted/
http://pamie.com/2014/11/i-can-be-exhausted/#commentsSat, 22 Nov 2014 02:15:55 +0000http://pamie.com/?p=17754[Read more...]]]>I just wanted to thank everyone who was a part of this crazy week.

As someone who spent years in the tech world before becoming a comedy writer, I’ve worked in two industries that openly debate gender when it comes to capability. I wanted to write “Barbie Fucks It Up Again” after finding a book aimed toward the youngest minds as they’re just starting to define self-worth. I’m thrilled the Internet seized the spirit of that essay and took up the fight. I’m proud to watch this worldwide discussion. (Not to mention this kickass piece of business.)

I wish Mattel had chosen to adjust the title instead of shelving it. I think we all would have appreciated that kind of reboot, even if it did take two girls (and Brian AND Steven) to get the job done correctly.

Thank you for sharing, for talking, and for making a difference. Thanks for reminding me why I love writing at pamie.com.

I’m sitting here with a fractured nose realizing I haven’t even told you yet that my mom called yesterday to let me know that my dead dad stopped a robbery in her storage unit. But that’s a story for another time. I promise to come back here more often.

…Especially since I had to upgrade my shit after we crashed this site five hundred times this week.

]]>http://pamie.com/2014/11/i-can-be-exhausted/feed/4Barbie Fucks It Up Againhttp://pamie.com/2014/11/barbie-fucks-it-up-again/
http://pamie.com/2014/11/barbie-fucks-it-up-again/#commentsMon, 17 Nov 2014 15:31:47 +0000http://pamie.com/?p=17702[Read more...]]]>I recently paid a visit to my sweet friend Helen Jane and was excited to find this book at her house.

(The second book of the “2 Books in 1!” is “Barbie [i can be…] an Actress.” We’ll get to that later.)

Helen Jane has two little girls under the age of six. I have a daughter who is almost two. “This is great!” I said. “Barbie wants to be a computer engineer! And fifty stickers!”

“Yeah, I was really excited at first, too,” Helen Jane said. “Because, like you, I believe in the good of people. But then, like I’m sure you’ve experienced a million times, I was reminded you should never believe in the good of people.”

“Oh, no. Should I read it?”

“You must. Immediately.”

And now you all will, too. Because this is a real book. A book you could buy right now if you wanted to. A book that right now, somewhere, is teaching possibly hundreds of young girls and boys the following:

At breakfast one morning, Barbie is already hard at work on her laptop.

“What are you doing, Barbie?” asks Skipper.

“I’m designing a game that shows kids how computers work,” explains Barbie. “You can make a robot puppy do cute tricks by matching up colored blocks!”

Barbie! That’s awesome. I love how your game is both educational and fun. Bonus points for keeping it cute, because you are so stylish. Please be careful not to drop your breakfast fro-yo on your laptop. I’ve done it, and it’s not so funzies.

Anyway, Internet, get ready to find your thing to be super pissed off about today.

“Your robot puppy is so sweet,” says Skipper. “Can I play your game?”

“I’m only creating the design ideas,” Barbie says, laughing. “I’ll need Steven and Brian’s help to turn it into a real game!”

What the fucking shit, Barbie?

This is where you assume Skipper will be like, “Oh, why do you need boys? We can do it ourselves! Let’s learn and work hard and do things all on our own because a sense of accomplishment and knowledge are powerful weapons for adulthood.”

But no. Nope. Barbie’s just fine ending her work with the “design ideas” and a laugh. She’ll need the boys before she’ll have a “REAL GAME.”

Wait, wait. I need you to know something, and this is hard for me to tell you, because I’m guessing that like Helen Jane and me, you maybe believe in the good of people. You still hope that when we turn the page, there will be something empowering for Barbie and Skipper to experience. That maybe Steven and Brian are… I don’t know, maybe they could still be girls? But, no. It’s about to get even more misogynistic up in here.

Barbie tries to email her design to Steven, but suddenly her screen starts blinking.

“That’s weird!” says Barbie.

Barbie and Skipper try to reboot the computer, but nothing happens.

“Looks like you’ve got a virus, big sister,” says Skipper.

“Luckily, I wear my flash drive on a necklace so that I’ll always remember to back up my work,” replies Barbie.

So, after this page, we–

Hey, where did you go? Oh, I see you. You’re on the floor, face down, having given up. Yeah, we did that, too. Is it because it took two girls to reboot a computer?

I feel bad for every time I made fun of my mother using technology, because right now some mom is having to read this book to her daughter, and after the “weird” blinking screen and reboot, she’s having to describe the computer’s state as: “nothing happens.”

Are you still on the floor because Barbie wears a flash drive around her neck? And that it’s a giant pink heart? At least Skipper’s doing her best to help the situation by pouring her sister some juice. Girls can be so helpful in the kitchen.

“May I borrow your laptop, Skipper?” asks Barbie as she follows her little sister into her bedroom.

“It will go faster if Brian and I help,” offers Steven.

IT WILL GO FASTER IF BRIAN AND I HELP, offer the men voices. “Step aside, Barbie.” YOU’VE BROKEN ENOUGH, NOW.

From Helen Jane: Steven and Brian are nice guys, I’m sure. But Steven and Brian are also everything frustrating about the tech industry. Steven and Brian represent the tech industry assumption that only men make meaningful contributions. Men fix this, men drive this and men take control to finish this. Steven and Brian don’t value design as much as code. Steven and Brian represent every time I was talked over and interrupted — every time I didn’t post a code solution in a forum because I didn’t want to spend the next 72 years defending it. Steven and Brian make more money than I do for doing the same thing. And at the same time, Steven and Brian are nice guys.

“I’ve got Skipper’s assignment from the hard drive!” exclaims Steven.

“Fantastic!” says Barbie. “And her other files, as well?”

“I’ve got everything,” says Steven. “Now let’s retrieve the files from your hard drive. Both laptops will be good as new in no time!”

High-five, dude. High-fucking-five.

The next morning, Barbie gives her sister a big surprise. Skipper turns on her laptop– and it works!

Barbie not only waits until the next morning to return her sister’s computer, she completely takes all the credit that it’s no longer broken! What an asshole!

At school, Skipper presents her assignment to the class.

“Hi, everybody,” she says. “The person I admire most is Barbie — a great sister and a great computer engineer!”

Everyone is impressed by Skipper’s presentation.

What?! Oh, wait. Didn’t she mostly write this assignment before the crash? Let’s give Skipper a pass. She almost lost enough already this week. Besides, if we upset her we’re likely to get trapped in the middle of one of her combination pillow fight/bikini car washes.

At computer class, Barbie presents the game she designed. Ms. Smith is so impressed that she gives Barbie extra credit!

Barbie’s terrific computer skills have saved the day for both sisters!

“I guess I can be a computer engineer!” says Barbie happily.

THE FUCKING END, PEOPLE.

Despite having ruined her own laptop, her sister’s laptop, and the library’s computers, not to mention Steven and Brian’s afternoon, she takes full credit for her game design– only to get extra credit and decide she’s an awesome computer engineer! “I did it all by myself!”

Flip the book and you can read “Barbie: I can be an Actress,” where Barbie saves the day by filling in for the princess in Skipper’s school production of “Princess and the Pea.” She ad-libs and smiles her way through her lines, and charms the entire audience. Standing ovation, plenty of praise. At no point did she need anybody’s help. She didn’t even need lines! Just standing there being Barbie was enough for everyone in attendance. See, actors? It’s not that hard. Even Barbie can do it.

When you hold the book in your hands to read a story, the opposite book is upside down, facing out. So the final insult to this entire literary disaster is that when you read “Barbie: I Can Be a Computer Engineer,” it appears that you are so fucking dumb, you’re reading “Barbie: I Can Be an Actress” upside down.

Helen Jane and I were so livid after reading this book we spent the first fifteen minutes spitting out syllables and half-sounds. We’d go from outraged to defeated to livid in the span of ten seconds. “I want this thing to start a meme of girls screaming, ‘I don’t need a Brian or a Steven!'”

We knew we had to share this with you, because if we didn’t, we’d be saying it was okay. We couldn’t just roll our eyes at how insulting this book is, how dangerous it is for young minds, how it’s a perfect example of the way women and girls are perceived to “understand” the tech world, and how frustrating it can be when nobody believes this is how we’re treated.

Just about every review we could find on this book had readers equally offended and frustrated.

Oh, and the 50 stickers? I only saw one: “Nerdy is the new Fab!” The others had already been removed by Helen Jane’s small daughters. We can only hope that one of them doesn’t boast, “My other laptop is a boy!”

]]>http://pamie.com/2014/11/barbie-fucks-it-up-again/feed/196That Time Retta Called Me Out on Twitter (Further Adventures in Fan Face)http://pamie.com/2014/10/that-time-retta-called-me-out-on-twitter-further-adventures-in-fan-face/
http://pamie.com/2014/10/that-time-retta-called-me-out-on-twitter-further-adventures-in-fan-face/#commentsTue, 14 Oct 2014 16:00:22 +0000http://pamie.com/?p=17698[Read more...]]]>I need you to know that I have been working on keeping my Fan Face in check. The other day, Nick from Project Runway/Under the Gunn passed me on the street and said hello to the baby and I acted like he was a face I didn’t recognize. An elevator door opened to reveal Maya Rudolph standing right in front of me and — you guys — the fact that I did not immediately launch into an impression of her impression of Oprah shows you how much I’ve grown as a person who periodically goes outside.

But this is a story from before I had labelled my Fan Face. Back when it was so obvious my husband would just look away and go, “Damn, Ribon. You look like you’re taking a photograph of Marcia Gay Harden with your retinas. Either work on that, or go talk to her before we get on the plane. It’s getting creepy. …oh, you’re going to go talk to her? I’m going to go over here and not know you, then.”

Marcia was very sweet, even though she had an understandably protective lean decidedly away from me. I normally never go up to someone, but Marcia had talked to my acting class back when I was in college, and I wanted to thank her because it really stuck with me, and many of my friends from that year. Plus I was pregnant at the time, and that state of being apparently turned my “give a shit” meter all the way off.

That missing self-check mode made for all kinds of new experiences during the months I was pregnant. One that immediately comes to mind, one I just can’t seem to let go, involves another airport encounter.

Being pregnant makes you have to pee. All the time, a lot. This is probably not news to you. But it can make something as mundane as getting through airport security turn into a stakes-are-very-high situation inside your body. One time I was struggling through security check before a red-eye flight to New York, keeping my mind focused on the first finish line: the ladies room inside the United Lounge. There had been some delays, some traffic, some longer-than-expected lines, and by the time I reached the bathroom door, I was hunched over, inching my way to the stall.

I peed with great relief. I remember this. I remember a feeling of accomplishment that almost made me sleepy.

Afterward, while I was washing my hands, a woman stepped out of another stall. After a quick glance in the mirror, I thought, “That looks like Retta. But, Retta if she were not in makeup and wanting to sleep during this upcoming redeye.”

I tried not to Fan Face. After all, we were in a bathroom. Let the lady have her time.

Just after take-off I rushed to the airplane bathroom, as it had been almost a full forty-five minutes since I’d been allowed to pee. On the way back I saw that the woman I thought was Retta was sitting in the aisle in front of me. But now she was tucked in all cozy and asleep. Couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, sure as hell wasn’t going to ask her, nor inspect further.

After the flight, maybe-Retta was sitting near us, waiting on a taxi or shuttle or something. This is when I realized I knew the best way to find out if that was, in fact, Retta on my flight. Twitter. If she was on a plane to New York, surely she would have mentioned it.

Turns out Retta had tweeted just before her flight.

“Damn, lady in the United stall next to me. Why the orgasmic experience? #personaltime #keepmeoutofit”

So, you know, it’s not always just my face that ruins things.

]]>http://pamie.com/2014/10/that-time-retta-called-me-out-on-twitter-further-adventures-in-fan-face/feed/7helloozzzhttp://pamie.com/2014/06/helloozzz/
http://pamie.com/2014/06/helloozzz/#commentsFri, 06 Jun 2014 17:21:41 +0000http://pamie.com/?p=17692[Read more...]]]>If there were a kind of porn site where I just watched people who had time on their hands do all the things I wish I still had time to do, I would… well, I wouldn’t have time to watch it. These days I hear about people binge-watching entire seasons of a tv series over their weekends and I’m drooling, it sounds so luxurious. I get jealous every night when the baby has her bath, because sometimes there are bubbles, and I miss just deciding to take a long, hot bath and then taking one while reading an entire book. I used to have so much time! Time I wasted thinking I needed to be doing something with all that time! I never appreciated it and now it’s gone and you guys, I have regrets.

The other day I couldn’t find my library card. “It’s on Qwerty’s keys,” I said to Jason and Kristen. “Do you guys know where she keeps her keys?”

“Did you check her pink purse?” asked Jason.

“I did. No keys.”

Kristen said, “I know they aren’t in her owl purse. I found that earlier and all it has is her phone.”

Whether it’s Twitter, YouTube or Instagram, digital media are changing the business world, one click at a time. The whole concept of sharing has swiftly become more than social, and if you’ve seen Jon Favreau’s latest film, Chef, you’ll understand how quickly your Twitter game can change your career. Enter The Working Poet Radio Show, a new monthly radio and television talk show sponsored by the Los Angeles Public Library, which seeks to explore the lives of creative people. The June 4 show, “Working With Humor,” will focus on comedians and how digital media are changing their professional lives. Sit with the live audience and listen as L.A. success stories Flula Borg, a German techno DJ; Key & Peele director Jay Martel; and best-selling author Pamela Ribon discuss how humor has changed because of social media. “It’s such a struggle for people to get to where they want to be,” says show host (and L.A. Weekly contributor) Joseph Lapin on the struggle to be successful while maintaining creativity. “This show appeals to those who want to be creative.” Mark Taper Auditorium, Central Library, 630 W. Fifth St.; Wed., June 4, 7 p.m.; free. (213) 228-7338, theworkingpoetradioshow.com.